The Hope of Coffee
by hug-me
Summary: Coffee doesn't just say good morning; it also says 'Everything is going to be ok'. That is just what she needed. AU angsty but hopeful! Please review!


The Hope of Coffee

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows, catching the silver baubles that hang from the small, pine Christmas tree. It is past the holiday season now, giving the decorations more of a depressing feel than festive. The owners are trying to hold onto the spirit; the happy, excited buzz that comes from a group of people gearing up to Christmas. Patrons put up with the decorations because they now feel the January weight on their shoulders; diets, work, the cold weather, reality. They want to cling onto the light for as long as possible.

A couple are huddled in the far corner of the coffee shop. Deep in conversation, not so much with their words, but with the intense looks that pass between them. An outsider feels intrusive just looking at them. Their hands tightly clasped together across the table, holding on like a life force.

Her brunette locks fall down to hide her face as she looks to their adjoining hands. His thumb starts to gently rubbing circles, a soothing motion, and she lifts her eyes to his. The red rims are a stark contrast to her pale skin and her black eye liner. But she smiles. A watery, hesitant smile; but still a smile. He will take it. He loves nothing better than to tug at the corner of her lips with his words or actions. Hell, even an eye roll makes his heart soar.

"It's going to be ok," his soft calming tones wash over her. She believes him. How can she not believe him? The past five years are surely proof of that.

She sighs deep, closes her eyes and tilts her head back, stopping the tears from falling. Again. She can't cry over this anymore. Enough is enough. He gives her time to breathe through it and he lets out his own exhale. When she gets a hold of herself she brings her head down and appraises him. She takes in his dark, thick hair, preened to perfection of course. She inwardly smirks; she is forever teasing him that he is such a metrosexual. She looks into his deep, blue eyes, swimming with love, concern, and patience. How they can do all that she will never know. His eyes were what attracted her originally. Though admittedly, at first, all she could detect was lust, and a little leering. She carries on down, past his afternoon shadow that has appeared on his chin. She likes the stubble; it makes him appear wiser, older somehow. Her eyes continue down to his neck and chest, perfectly framed in an eggplant purple V neck jumper. The wispy hairs from his chest are visible now that he has taken off the scarf she got him for Christmas. She mentally berates herself for such a boring present as her eyes finally fall on the twinkling diamond happily perched on her left hand; his Christmas present to her. She allows herself to fill up with happiness; the first time she has let herself since the day he got down on one knee. He grins at her, somehow knowing what she is thinking and remembering that moment. A perfect moment. Unfortunately that was all it was; a moment. The next day burst their bubble.

"It was a beautiful service" he remarks as she deflated again.

She hummed in agreement, not trusting her voice. It had this annoying habit of cracking every time she talked about it. Great, now her eyes were filling up again.

"What can I get you?"' A cheerful barista bustled over, notepad in hand, smile on her face. He wasn't sure if he was glad for the intrusion or annoyed. She untangled her hands from his to reach for a menu while he huffed himself back into his chair.

"Cappuccino for me," he said, but still keeping his eyes on his fiancé, just in case he had to order for her. He knew that she hated sounding weak.

"I'll take a latte please" her strong voice returning. She even managed a smile at the barista as she gave back the menu.

"No problem" the barista called as she skipped back to the counter. Okay, perhaps not skipped, but it is common knowledge that when your world is shrouded in darkness, with no light penetrating even the smallest of corners, everyone else seems to have come from Disneyland; happy, not a care in the world. It comes as a shock that others can carry on as normal, oblivious to the jet black cloud hovering over someone's head. It annoyed him more than her that there was happiness in here. Subconsciously that is why he may have picked this particular coffee shop; the obnoxious 'Merry Christmas' sign hung over the entrance added to the depressing ambience that they had been living in recently. He hadn't counted on the people changing this perception. But perhaps this was a good thing. Both of them needed a little cheering today. The presence of people is helpful, they act as a reminder of the living. If you starve yourself of humanity then the bad things seem even darker, even lonelier, more isolating and consuming.

A coffee shop was the perfect place to come to after a funeral. The puffing of the coffee machine, the chatter of other patrons, the timely opening and closing of the door sending gushes of ice cold air into the warm cocoon; all things that can be drowned out to background noise but with enough presence to keep them in the present.

They sat in silence while waiting on their drinks. He shrugged out of his long, black woollen coat finally feeling the warming effect of the place. She still sat their well wrapped up in her black coat with a faux fur trim. Her grief was more raw than his was and as such, not as permeable to the hot room. In fact, it was more of a numbness; numb to the temperature, the surroundings, the cheerfulness that had him growling. He wasn't numb because his was like a second hand grief; it fed off of hers. Of course he would miss her father, he was a lovely man, full of stories and heart, but he was more upset because he knew that she was grieving and there was nothing he could do.

She could feel herself sweating but there was a chill that had settled in the bottom of her stomach. It had been there ever since she received the phone call. She had seen him remove his layers but that hadn't persuaded her to do the same. She was wearing a dark dress underneath her coat but a funeral in winter meant that it had never been seen, except by him of course. He had zipped it up for her this morning with a kiss to the back of her neck, something reassuring, not sensual. No tears had been shed today, until now, though that was only because her tank had been completely empty after a steady flow all week. Faced with her father's coffin and grieving relatives, the tank had quickly refilled though managed to not overflow until they were alone.

"Here we are" the barista sing-songed while setting down their respective drinks in front of them. The chocolate sprinkles on the top of his cappuccino had been dusted on in the shape of a Christmas tree and he scowled at it, quickly getting a spoon and churning the froth until the offending image had disappeared. He looked over at her and saw a strange look on her face as she peered into her latte. He had expected to see only sadness, or even worse a blank stare, and while there was the former, there was also a look of serenity. He glanced at her drink and saw the swirling pattern of a five-pointed star. Oh.

"My dad once told me that the stars were the twinkling lights of heaven, that angels needed them like we needed street lights," she whispered, chuckling softly. She wasn't religious, didn't even believe in heaven. But there was something about it that had calmed her. That somehow it was a sign from her father that everything would be ok. She would find her path again, eventually. His anger at the barista instantly dissipated and in its place; gratitude. He knew what this sign had done to her.

She wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip, letting the warm liquid sooth her. She wasn't better, she never would be. There will always be a part of her filled with sadness and loss, but in time that part will seem like less of a chasm and more resemble a box of memories; a reminder of the good times that can be opened and shut when needed.

He stood up from his chair to lean over the table, placing a chaste kiss to her mouth, tasting coffee and a little salt from her tears. He felt her smile before detaching and returning to his seat.

"I guess I was right then" he murmured as he took a hold of his cup.

She raised an eyebrow at him, detecting a teasing tone.

"Coming here was a much better idea than going to that sleazy bar for shots."

He smirked at her over his cup, knowing that she had been hell bent on getting completely hammered after the day she's had. He didn't blame her, but told her that that was not the best idea, especially given her father's, albeit distant, alcoholic past. Why would she honor his memory in that way? He had argued the day before and she had retaliated. In the end, her weakened state had followed him without thought.

She nudged him with her knees under the table and rolled her eyes.

"I don't know, the day is still young" she shot back, but he could tell from her look that she was content; that the coffee was enough, he was enough, and that she had cried enough. Not forever, but it was enough for now.


End file.
